Cleansing
by Shelbey
Summary: Kyle wishes Gregory would get hit by a car, or die in a plane crash, or get stepped on by Cthulhu. Or something.


Winter.

Though he found himself hosting the Mole more often than not, he couldn't help but hate the lengths the boy would go to to piss him off. Probably due to his life's experiences, Christophe's sense of humor was cynical and dry, and making Kyle angry gave him a sense of absolute serenity. Kyle tried his best not to let anything he said get to him, but sometimes his complete disregard for his own safety as well as the safety of others just sent him over the edge.

"I don't know why you let Gregory make you do this anymore," Kyle said bitingly, sitting on his couch and glad his parents weren't home. His mother definitely did not approve of the filthy Frenchman, thought he was a bad influence on her sons and really hated having to clean up after him. Not that Kyle cared what his mom thought, knowing that at sixteen years old you have to accept the cards that are dealt to you. And the deck dealt him a Jack named Christophe Delorne.

Christophe finished off his cigarette and smashed it into the ash tray that Kyle had bought specifically for him. "You think I let Gregory push me around?" He rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch, his eyes on the television but not really watching it. "Gregory is merely someone that relays orders to me from 'is superiors. I do zis because I want to, not because 'e tells me to." Kyle frowned, because he knew better than that, but The Mole was adamant about his position that Gregory was nothing more than a liaison with information to help Christophe on his jobs.

Kyle snorted. "Oh, I see, and you know, the fucking has nothing to do with that does it?"

Without an answer, Christophe left the house in a puff of smoke, leaving Kyle to fume and close the front door from the snow and the cold after him.

Spring.

Christophe had let himself into Kyle's bedroom many times, through the window, through the air conditioning, and, on the very rare occasion, through the door. But when he hadn't heard from Christophe in weeks, Kyle was more angry than happy to see him. "You piece of shit," he grumbled, throwing anything with arm's reach at him. "Fucking thought you died, you fucking bastard." Without batting an eye, Christophe knocked everything away without a single thing touching him, making Kyle grit his teeth and turn to leave his own room.

"You realize zat sometimes, I 'ave to be undercover, no?" he asked, lighting a cigarette and letting the fumes float silently out the window, successfully stopping Kyle in his tracks. "Besides, Gregory would be very angry with me if I compromised ze mission because you cannot stand to be away from me." That offhanded remark sent Kyle into a fury again, and he managed to get one good, solid hook into Christophe's face before he grabbed his arms and pushed him against the wall. The remnants of the smoke of the last puff he took of his still lit cigarette lingered on his breath, making Kyle a little dizzy but still furious.

"I don't give a fuck what Gregory thinks," he hissed, though he couldn't deny the absolute change in his body language as Christophe leaned in close to him. "I'm sorry I'm the only person that actually cares about your safety. Gregory just wants to use every inch of you until you're worthless and then throw you aside. That's all he cares about, Christophe, he doesn't care about you. He cares about what you can do for him. And if sucking his cock and putting yourself in danger is what you can do for Gregory, I'm sure he's pretty damn happy."

Summer.

That fight was the last he had seen of Christophe for nearly five months. The mountains didn't get very hot in the summer, and even though it was August, Kyle had a chill in his chest and his stomach that he couldn't get rid of. He stared out the window into the bright blue sky, gripping a blanket around his shoulders and he ignored Stan's phone call for the fifth time that day. He didn't have the heart to do anything but wait, wait for Christophe to appear and show himself to be well and whole and as cynical an asshole as ever.

Kyle didn't even think that anyone else remembered Christophe, that they even cared. He knew that Stan wouldn't understand the feelings he had for The Mole, the want and need to know that he was safe. He felt his heart plunge in his chest, trying to keep his mind away from any thoughts of danger coming to Christophe, though he knew that it was absolutely inevitable in his line of work. Once again, his phone rang, and he went to ignore the call from Stan, but he saw it was from an unknown number.

Confused, he answered it, and the call, though crackly, was clear enough to make out the words, "I am alive, and I will be 'ome to you soon." He began to cry as the line went dead, shaking in his chair and pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Autumn.

Kyle woke up with a warm body in bed with him, clutching Christophe like he was terrified he was going to disappear into the night again. It wouldn't surprise Kyle if he did, and he tried his best the night before to stay awake through the night to make sure he didn't leave. He shouldn't have been worried though; Christophe was exhausted and bleeding when he arrived in Kyle's window, and while he was patching him up, the Frenchman had fallen asleep.

He didn't want to know where Christophe had been and what he had to do that put him in this condition. All he knew was that the man he loved was home safely, and after many months of pining after him, he finally had him in his bed, in his arms. He was fast asleep, and Kyle could appreciate his handsome face, the scars and the tanned skin, the smell of the woods mixed with cigarettes and cheap beer. Unable to help himself, Kyle leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against those chapped lips, wondering if everything he had never said could be transmitted in such a way, that all the love he had built up for someone so unreachable could be shown by a small, simple kiss.

Pulling away, he saw that Christophe's eyes were wide open, and found himself blushing pink at being found out. "You're right, you know," he whispered, pulling his knees up to his chin. "I can't stand to be away from you." Before the words were even finished leaving his lips, Christophe was over Kyle, their mouths smashed together and their clothes falling to the floor. The feeling of each other was almost too good to be true, and Kyle lost a tiny part of himself that night.

Hours later, the Mole stood up from the bed and got dressed, kissing Kyle hard one last time before picking up his bag and starting to leave. With something that sounded like absolute certainty, Christophe Delorn turned from the windowsill and gazed at the boy, saying calmly, "Au revoir, Kyle." And Kyle has never hated Gregory more.

Winter.

Kyle Broflovski died inside, when the note came in the mail.

_He's dead. - Gregory_


End file.
